Hello
by Conceit
Summary: The Nights grow non - repetitive for Envy as he slowly torments and seduces multiple people in his life. Teen for slight gore and Erotic description.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a pretty strange one. It's basically Wrath going totally insane. I got the inspiration from the Evanescence song "Hello". It's a little depressing and injected with 40 gallons of morbid. Anyway…Enjoy!

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_Playground, School bell rings, again. _

The long haired boy, who appeared no older than ten, locked in his room deeply absorbed in the effort of consoling himself within his mind. He wanted and wished for the torment of his life or dreams to stop, he began to get confused between his real life and his dreams, and they were pretty much the same sick and twisted blurs.

_Rain clouds come to play, Again _

He gripped his long hair, clinging desperately for some kind of reassurance while all the painful memories of bloodshed and hurt ran back into his mind. He pulled tighter on his hair, beginning to sob gently while falling to the floor.

_Has no one told you she's not breathing? Hello. I am your mind, giving you someone to talk to, Hello. _

Wrath quivered on the floor hugging him so tightly that his arms began to spill crimson tears of their own. He smiled manically, almost laughing out loud. The delicate puzzle of sanity in his mind crumbled somewhere in the distance. He cried out again shaking on the floor, while losing grasp of reality.

_If I smile and don't believe, soon I know I'm awake from this dream._

The sin clutched his sides, coughing and hacking. Quickly, he lost grip on everything and let out a piercing scream when his eyes that were constantly closing and darting across the room managed to land on the large puddle of blood that he had previously coughed up earlier. He rapidly realized that as well as coughing up blood his fingernails and arms were also sufficiently covered.

_Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken_

Every time he left whatever security his room provided, he'd make as if he were a normal, but happy child. Continuing his days so that only to completely break down again after retreating to his mind and abolishing the lie he put on every day.

_Hello I am the lie, living for you so you can hide. Don't cry. _

Wrath had been lying on the floor tightly closing his eyes. Suddenly he opened them to see his wrist, clenched by his hands, and leaked blood all over the floor. Wrath panicked, propelling himself into the corner of the room pushing his legs against his chest. His breathing became erratic and he brought his hands to his chest, than his face and he screamed. His voice pierced everything and the sin fell to the floor wondering if he was really, finally going to be free.

_Suddenly I know I'm not Sleeping. Hello I'm still here. All that's left of yesterday…_


	2. Ice

A/N: I AM SO GLAD I EDITED THIS! It was so short before and it made me say

"What is wrong with you woman, you actually put that out!' and my inner self defends with

"I'm sorry I'm such a n00b!" Anywho (I love it when people say it like that) By the way , I know there's a site where there's an announcement of all the writing challenges and if anyone who's reading this knows what the name is , E- mail me here: katsitsanoronsympatico.ca

Anyway, Enjoy this edited version!

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What can I say about what I do to my little, helpless toy, I love him and I'm addicted to what he does, It's tantalizing. That's why I love the winter, It's so beautiful and so delicate. I love seeing and hearing the ice crack beneath my foot when I just give it the smallest hit. Just the tiniest push and it's broken all over the place. The ice reminds me, so perfectly of him. I adore seeing my pitiful, broken chibi wither in pain, helpless on the floor. It's almost strange how I get off just hearing the delicate crack when my foot connects with his frail body, just like the ice. I could just bask in the view of his naked body somewhere between a euphoric state of unconciousness and climax. The sounds of his cries of pain and pleasure mixed at the same time within the rich texture of spilt blood diluted in tears over our bodies and the floor. I take my sick pleasures in watching his pain.

Truth is, he's so damn controllable. He'll easily crawl back under my wings despite the fact that I abuse whenever and wherever I choose, him and his pathetic soul. As much of a misanthrope that I am I've found I can love him for only for his pain. It's sick but it's beautiful to bring his bloody and broken face to mine and whisper the most degrading things in to him, knowing all the while that it will make him burn inside, arising an anger that is so mentally strong, that will stay within him, pent up forever. None the less, all I receive is a pathetic and pitiful moan of protest against the torture I will continue to inflict on his small, deflowered frame.

So, I continue, with leather to the skin and words to the ear. He glimpses death, something that I will never see. I'm not too concerned, because he's already seen pain and death enough for the both of us.

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End file.
